Onii-san
by Random-Pixie123
Summary: Rumi's opinion of her older brother during one warm evening. Because I feel this character is way to underrated and needs more screen time.


**Hi everybody. This is my third fanfic for the SKET Dance fandom and I had loads of fun writing this one. Out of the roughly 80 fanfictions in this archive, none of them have Rumi as a leading character. And I CANNOT and WILL NOT stand for that. Rumi is way too underrated and deserves more screen time. So here's my fanfic so she can **_**finally**_** enjoy the limelight. Constructive criticism is always welcomed.**

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Rumi reclined in her seat at the kitchen table, arms crossed over her chest, as she stared at her brother jiggling around on the plush sofa positioned in front of the television. He cheered and clapped as building after building exploded as a result of some sort of robot invasion.

It was slightly disconcerting for her to watch her almost-eighteen year old brother receive such enjoyment from a show whose desired audience were elementary school students, but she had come to the conclusion that he was either blissfully unaware or simply didn't care.

He grinned with a childlike passion, waving his arms in circular motions over his head as various "POW"s and "PEW PEW"s erupted from his lips.

She rolled her eyes at his antics and allowed them to flutter closed. It wasn't easy to be surrounded by friends that boasted about their seemingly level-headed elder siblings. They arrived home from school and their brothers were doing homework or reading manga.

Never once had they come home to find their brothers clinically obsessed with a video game or sitting in a sea of anime related books, being brain-washed by whatever moe character was currently glomping her onii-chan on the television.

Rumi had spent a fair amount of time worrying about her brother, especially his love life. She was positive he had feelings for the pretty blonde girl that was "just-a-friend!" buried somewhere under his childish emotions.

Although slightly…forceful, Himeko was the perfect match for the fourteen-year-old's elder brother. She possessed all the qualities he lacked; she was confident, strong… good-looking. Rumi chuckled to herself. In her opinion, her brother was certainly lacking in the looks department. He was no shinpei…

Conversely, Bossun had many positive traits the feisty blonde didn't possess. For starters he was reasonably level-headed, someone to restrict Himeko from tearing grown-men limb from limb when they looked at her the wrong way. And Rumi grudgingly admitted to herself, he was somewhat…genuine.

The kind of boy who could hold his future girlfriend and stroke her hair and mutter into the side of her face that he loved her no matter what when she was having a personality breakdown over what Rumi now knew to be a broken past.

Next to Switch, she was the biggest shipper of the couple which she and the otaku had fondly labelled BosuHime. Rumi and the mute boy had become closer over gossiping and sharing secrets about said-couple and to say they had bonded would be an understatement.

Over the last few months, Rumi and Switch had created an alliance filled with under-breath comments and late night texting. He was her eyes on the inside and she was his.

But the young girl had grown particularly fond of the whole SKET-dance. She was aware of her brother's motive, she knew all about Ryōsuke, but she didn't understand how someone could base their entire lives on helping others; on always putting others before themselves.

She had seen him in action and it filled her with pride, though she would rather suffer through a month devoid of cream-puffs than admit it to him. But she couldn't help the twinge of guilt that gnawed at her thoughts. She could never live her life like that. Did that mean she was a bad person? Did it mean she didn't care about others? Did it mean she was heading to hell?

She allowed the early evening sun to pierce her vision as her eyes blinked open. She shot her line of sight over to her brother who was still perched on the edge of the cushions, but now had tears streaming from his eyes , wrinkling his face every time one of the tears dared to defy the laws of gravity and entered his nose.

He used the back of his wrist to wipe his face free of the salty droplets, not wanting anyone to notice the effect the moving scene had on his fragile emotions. Rumi's pale brown eyebrows quirked upwards as brightly coloured robots wrapped their arms around each other in a 'bro hug'.

She extended her arms in a forward direction, yawning slightly before standing, the plastic of her chair screeching against the wooden floors. Pivoting on her heel, she turned to face the cupboards; her hands fumbling around for a glass. Locking her fingers around the cool material, her feet carried her over to the fridge.

The frosty air emitted temporarily relieved her from the scorching temperature that was eating away at her last nerve. As she fished around for juice her eyes landed on a small plastic bag, bulging with sweets, courtesy of Tsubaki.

She young girl had taken a liking to her brother's long-lashed twin. He was studious and sensible and he brought her desserts at her request. He was of great assistance when she needed someone to help her control her brother, though he had a tendency of getting dragged into the situation. She shuddered slightly at the memory. But the dreaded game had been disposed of and was, she hoped, never to be seen again.

Rumi trudged back to her chair and flopped down on the hard blue structure. She lifted her right arm, left arm firmly secured to her glass as the bright orange liquid began to glug out of the carton. A hurricane of thoughts swirled so forcefully in her head that she barely noticed the juice cascading over the edges of the glass, splashing on to the surface of the table. Cursing, she shot up from her seat and moved to thrust her arms under the tap, the cold water ridding her hands of the sticky liquid. She sighed and turned off the tap, violently wiping her hands on the fabric of her trousers.

She turned around to see a red horned boy leaning over the mess, moving a cloth over the table and muttering about her being more careful because he wasn't always going to be there to help her. She snorted slightly and grabbed a cloth from the counter beside her, joining her brother in the act of wiping.

She glanced over at him for a second time. Maybe she didn't care about strangers as much as he did, but she did care about her family. She loved her mother and really liked her father, but she loved Bossun most of all. Many others thought his quirks and randomness made living with him unbearable, and although Rumi found him slightly annoying, she wouldn't have him any other way. Besides…who else was going to look after him?

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**Ahhh, it's over. I hope I did Rumi justice.**


End file.
